Less Than Perfect
by Nightstalker1
Summary: Every elf has been less than perfect at some point in their lives. Arwen: Misinterpreting what you hear often leads to complete insanity.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:  All things Lord of the Rings belong to mighty Tolkein.  I'm only borrowing them for a little while and promise to return them with minimal psychological damage.**

**Author's Notes:  I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!!!!  Well, I'm back at school and the insanity has started again.  A lot of reviewers asked me to write a sequel to "An Elf Lord Has Needs", but I decided to do something much better; a spin-off.  That's right, stories inspired by "Elf Lord".  I figured if I was going to torment Celeborn, Galadriel, and Haldir, then I didn't want the other elves to feel left out. *Pauses to avoid several arrows aimed for the head* I will give fair warning to all of my readers.  I have nothing against any of the elves that I'm about to make fun of.  On the contrary, I love them.  That is why I ask that people obsessed with certain elves NOT get pissed at me for what I write.  All of this is just for laughs and shouldn't be taken seriously.  Flames will be used to burn my Organic Chemistry book.**

**Prologue**

_If you ask any member of the race of Men, Dwarves, or Hobbits about the nature of elves, it is a guarantee that they will mention perfection.  To other races, immortality automatically means that imperfections are destroyed over time.  To them, elves are completely aware of all that is around them and to be caught off guard is unheard of.  They believe that elves are nothing short of perfection._

_They have no idea how wrong they are._

_I was once like the other races, and indeed like many elves, in believing that elves are meant to be perfect.  I tirelessly worked on bringing all of my abilities beyond their natural limitations so that I would be the perfect warrior.  I studied endlessly since my childhood so that I would be the perfect scholar.  I spent countless hours within my father's court so that I would be the perfect prince.  All my life, I only knew perfection._

_And then I joined the Fellowship of the Ring._

_My perfect world was shattered as I was thrown into a group that knew nothing but imperfection.  The hobbits preferred to sit and eat, rather than improve their meager fighting skills.  Boromir's mind was more focused on the ring than the task at hand.  Aragorn refused to accept his destiny as the true king of Gondor.  Gandalf always allowed the hobbits to be the deciding factor in any major debate.  I am still surprised that most of us survived that journey with the Halflings making the decisions.  And then there was Gimli.  Well, I suppose I shall have to give the dwarf some credit.  He knew who he was and what his place was in the world.  He also strove to be the best warrior he could be.  Now that I think about it.   It was a good thing that he and I became friends.  If we had not, we would not have anyone to talk to when the stupidity of our company became overwhelming.  _

_I have never questioned my perfection before.  I always thought that I could accomplish anything.  Then Gandalf led us into Moria and got himself killed by a Balrog.  That was the first time that I felt anything less than perfect.  Our leader had died because I had done nothing.  The guilt that I felt was overwhelming.  Of course, if I had known that he would come back more powerful than ever, I would not have bothered feeling guilty.  But no, he just had to make me feel like a failure.  Thank you very much Gandalf.  Because of your little stunt I was pacing circles and ranting about my imperfection throughout our entire stay in Lórien.  _

_That was how Galadriel found me that fateful day.  She was so fed up with my ranting about how elves are supposed to be perfect that she invited me to gaze into her mirror.  It is a rare gift to see what the mirror has to show, so naturally I accepted.  Unfortunately, I had no idea that she did not want me to simply "gaze" into the mirror.  No, she failed to mention that I was to be chained to the mirror and forced to watch the most respectable elves in history going through times of pure stupidity.  From Gil-Galad to Elrond and his family to the Galadrim of Lothlórien to even my father; I was forced to watch them all act like complete imbeciles in their pasts.  For two days I watched in complete horror at how elves were not as perfect as they seem.  How my kind has lasted this long is truly a miracle.  It still amazes me to this day that I did not go completely insane after what I witnessed._

_Now I believe that it is time to show the world how the race of elves is anything but perfect.  What follows is an account of each elf that I witnessed in Galadriel's mirror and their highest points of embarrassing imperfection.  With most of my kind leaving for Valinor, I am sure that none of them would mind.  Even if the world laughs at their tales, the elves will know nothing of it across the sea.  And so I begin my story…_

_Legolas Greenleaf_

_(Son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood, Elf Lord of Ithilien, Archery Champion, Member of the Fellowship of the Ring,  Advisor to King Elessar, Best Friend to Gimli; Lord of the Glittering Caves, Voted Most Handsome Elf in Middle Earth 368 years running, and Individual Most Determined to Gain More Names and Titles than Aragorn) _

**A/N: Who will the first story be about?  None other than our favorite reborn Noldor.  **


	2. Glorfindel

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone, I'm back again with more elf insanity!  Glorfindel fans beware!  I know that there is a lot of debate over Glorfindel's origins.  From what I've read on the Net, Tolkien originally created two elves named Glorfindel; Glorfindel of Gondolin who fell to his death while fighting a Balrog in the First Age, and Glorfindel of Imladris in the Third Age.  According to Tolkien's notes, he was thinking about merging the two characters into one.  Basically, Glorfindel of Gondolin was killed and then returned from the Halls of Mandos as the fully grown Noldor elf we all know and love.  Glorfindel's origins in my story are going to be the same as Tolkien was planning.    **

**Glorfindel's New Friend**

The day started out like any other in the elven kingdom of Imladris.  The sun rose beyond the Misty Mountains, bathing the hidden valley in soft radiance.  Animals began to emerge from their dens and venture out into the open while the air filled with chirping bird songs.  The entire valley was the model picture of peace and serenity in the early morning light.

It was at this time that the elves of Imladris began to stir.

The elves emerged slowly from their quarters; some fully alert and ready to greet a new day while others were still half asleep and all but dragging themselves out of bed.  As everyone began to fully wake, one though was on every elf's mind; breakfast.

The House of Elrond contained two dining halls.  One was for grand feasts and the other for casual meals; like breakfast.  The casual dining hall was positively buzzing with various conversations as it was slowly filled with hungry elves.  When the food was brought out, all conversations were drowned out by the sound of silverware tapping plates and glasses clinking.

Lord Elrond sat at the center of the high table on the most northern end of the dining hall.  On his left, his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir were devouring their food like a pair of hobbits that had missed first breakfast.  To his right, Elrond saw his daughter Arwen silently eating with all the manner of a high class elf lady and studiously trying to ignore her brothers.  All of the tables were filled with eating, chatting elves.  It seemed as though all was right in Imladris that day.

However, Elrond sensed that something was not right.

"Elladan," Elrond leaned over to his son directly beside him.

"I din' do it!" the eldest twin exclaimed through a mouthful of half chewed sustenance.  He quickly swallowed.  "I swear it was all Elrohir's idea!"

The elf lord sighed in exasperation. "I was going to ask if you happen to know where Glorfindel is this morning.  He is nowhere to be seen."

Both twins abruptly stopped eating and looked over to Glorfindel's usual seat beside Arwen.  Sure enough, it was vacant.  Their sharp eyes scanned over the entire dining hall, but there seemed to be no trace of the golden haired Noldor anywhere.

"That is strange," Elrohir sat back in his chair and picked up another slice of fruit. "He never misses breakfast.  He said himself that it is his favorite meal around here."

"Yes, that is what worries me," a slight frown appeared on the half-elf's face. "I hope he is all right."

"Father, you worry too much," Elladan smiled and began to shovel food back into his mouth. "Wherever Glorfindel is, I am sure he is fine.  After all, he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

"Most of the time, yes…" Elrond trailed off, uncertainty clear upon his face. "None the less, I shall check his quarters after breakfast just in case."

The raven haired elf lord turned his attention to the breakfast in front of him and was about to take a bite when a sudden thought occurred to him.  He turned back to his ravenous sons. 

"What did you mean when you said 'it was all Elrohir's idea'?  What have the two of you done now?"

The twins blushed, exchanged panicked looks and raced out of the dining hall before their father could conduct any further inquiries.  

*          *          *

Lord Glorfindel had always been an elf that enjoyed his privacy.  It was because of this reason that his private chambers were located in a quiet corner of Imladris, away from the other rooms.  As Elrond made his way to Glorfindel's chambers, he could not help but gaze at the beauty of Imladris that stretched out around him.  He had truly created an elven paradise in the valley before the Misty Mountains.  

As he walked, the elf lord could hear the sound of elven feet running down the corridors at a breakneck speed.  As the footsteps grew closer, Elrond resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he heard two elves gasping for breath as they ran.  His sons never ceased to amaze him sometimes.  He had often had he pondered how such accomplished warriors could be masters of stealth on the trail of orcs but noisy as dwarves in a mithril mine at home.     

The twins came into view a few seconds later.  They were red faced and out of breath, as if they had been running for her lives.  This was not surprising, though.  With the amount of trouble they caused at home, it was a daily occurrence to see the twins running for their lives.

"What have you done this time?" Elrond called out to them as they ran by.

Both elves stopped dead in their tracks and looked back at their father like dwarves at arrow-point [1].  Quickly composing themselves, they walked back to Elrond with their heads held high.

"We were merely running to catch up with you," Elrohir explained confidently. "Both of us are equally worried about Glorfindel's absence at breakfast, so we decided to accompany you."

Beside Elrohir, Elladan was nodding vigorously.  The elf lord sighed deeply.  Whatever they had done, he would find out soon enough.  For now, he might as well let them tag along.  What harm could it do?  

Wincing at that particular thought, Elrond gestured for his sons to follow him. "Come; let us see to our friend."

*          *          *

As they neared Glorfindel's chambers, the three elves were surprised to see the door ajar.  This set them all on edge.  Glorfindel's door was always closed to ensure his privacy.  Elladan and Elrohir placed their hands on the swords by their sides as they edged closer, hunting instincts on full alert.  Elrond moved ahead of them and pressed himself against the wall, just next to the open door.  The half-elf strained his ears to hear for any signs of danger but instead heard a single, high pitched voice.  In fact, it sounded almost like someone with a normally low voice was speaking in falsetto.  

"It was so nice of you to join me for tea today, my dear.  Needlepoint, muffin baking, and orc killing can get so monotonous after a few thousand years, so it is wonderfully delightful to have a bit of company over ever now and then.  Would you care for another crumpet, darling?"

Three dark haired elves on either side of the doorway exchanged looks of utter confusion.  Who was this person and what were they doing in Glorfindel's chamber?  A sudden squeal of terror from inside the room made all of them jump in surprise and burst into the room with their weapons drawn.  

"Where are they?" Elladan demanded. "I will slay them all!"

"Slay who?" a familiar deep voice answered them.

It was then that they noticed there was only one other person in the room.  And that person was a certain golden haired Noldor that went by the name of Lord Glorfindel.  He was seated in a large burgundy armchair in front of a table laden with supplies needed for a very large tea party.  All other chairs around the table were mysteriously empty.  This in itself was a bit odd, but the oddest thing of all that they saw was Glorfindel himself.  The usually conservative elf lord was wearing a long, paisley dress with a very low collar.  Enormous white lace ruffles stuck out of the sleeves and beneath the hem.  His long golden hair was pulled back into a single braid and decorated with multiple ribbons of colorful silk.  Odder still was the fact that he was also wearing his black hunting boots beneath the entire outfit.

"Forgive us for interrupting," Elrond tried very hard to look at the seated elf's face and not his outfit. "We did not know that you were expecting company."

"Oh, not at all," Glorfindel replied with a smile. "If I had known the three of you were coming, I would have set out more cups."  
"Who exactly are you expecting?"  Elladan eyed the empty place settings with curiosity.

"Just some friends of a friend; Lady Nesbit, Lord Ernelm and his son Vanderbule.  Oh yes, Mrs. Rindergeld and Mr. Simious said they would be a bit late."

"Oh," Elrond replied simply.  There was no other possible answer he could give.  So, he abruptly changed the subject. "Glorfindel, what was that scream we heard?"

"Oh that?  Never mind that, my lord.  For a moment, I thought that I had run out of cream, but it so happens that there was another jug in my private stores."

That said, the room became completely silent.  Glorfindel stood there in his paisley dress, smiling like stoned Istari, while Elrond and his sons simply stared at him.  The real burning question was still hanging in the air, but no one wanted to be the first to say it.  After five minutes of awkward silence, Elrohir could not wait any more.

"Glorfindel," He began timidly before spitting it out. "Why are you wearing a paisley dress with white ruffles?"

Glorfindel stared at the younger twin as if he had just grown a second head. "Mr. Snuggles likes the paisley one better than the turquoise."

Deciding that another five minutes of awkward silence would interfere with further pranks, Elrohir pressed further. "Who is Mr. Snuggles?"

"Mr. Snuggles is my new best friend," Glorfindel beamed. "He is a six-legged puppy."

" 'A six-legged puppy'?" Elrond and his sons asked at once.

"Of course a six-legged puppy," Glorfindel rolled his eyes as if a six-legged puppy was the most obvious thing in the world. "He has a big, cold, wet nose and a shiny purple coat with the cutest little gold spots.  Mr. Snuggles really is a true friend, you know.  He is always there for me."

"And where exactly is Mr. Snuggles right now?" Elrond could not help but ask.

"He is sitting right there, waving hello to you."

Elrond looked over to his right where Glorfindel was pointing and saw only an empty chair.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes.  He is telling me that your robes are very cleanly pressed and smell like fermented curd."

"I do not see anything there," Elladan interjected. "There is nothing where you are pointing but empty air."

Glorfindel sighed. "That is too bad then."

Elladan was thoroughly confused. "Why is that?"

"It is because Mr. Snuggles is invisible to almost everyone.  He can only be seen by special elves.  He told me so himself.  You see him, do you not, Elrohir?"

Elrohir gulped when he saw the say-no-and-I-will-slaughter-you-here-and-now look in the golden haired elf's eyes. "Um…of course I see him.  You are right Glorfindel, his spots are very cute.  Are they not, Father?"

Elrond caught the pleading note in his younger son's voice and nodded vigorously. "Oh…oh yes!  Very cute indeed.  And I thank you for your compliments Mr. Snuggles.  You are very kind, isn't he _Elladan."_

"Yes, he is very nice.  I did not see him earlier because I was too busy looking at the maroon squirrel that is tap-dancing on the table," Elladan replied with dripping sarcasm.

"Oh pay no attention to the squirrel," Glorfindel groaned. "He is just trying to get attention by interrupting us.  Not like Mr. Snuggles.  He is very polite.  Now come, the tea is getting cold.  If the three of you are to join our little party, then you must be wearing the proper attire."

That said, Glorfindel raced over to his closets and pulled out three of the tackiest dresses ever created.

Elrond looked over his shoulder at his sons, who were slowly backing away toward the open door. "Oh no."

Elladan and Elrohir responded in unison. "Not again."

*          *          *    

It was a well known fact among all members of the First Born that Lord Glorfindel was a very special elf.  He was once known as Glorfindel of Gondolin, chief of the House of the Golden Flower.  During the First Age, Gondolin had been a beautiful and prosperous realm, until the darkness came.  As Gondolin was laid to ruin, Glorfindel and many others set out alone to face their enemies.  Atop the cliffs of Cirith Thoronath, the elven army was surrounded by orcs and Glorfindel found himself facing the most dreaded of all beasts on his own; a Balrog.  Their battle was a mighty one, but neither would be the victor.  As their battle was waged, the pinnacles of rock where they fought crumbled away and both Glorfindel and the fire demon fell to their demises.  Many songs were composed in honor of the valiant elf and the tears shed in morning for him were great.  

But Glorfindel was never one to simply give up.

Time passed and Glorfindel grew restless in the Halls of Mandos.  With strength of spirit unknown to any other, Glorfindel was able to free his soul from Mandos and return to Arda as a reincarnation of himself.  Physically, he was exactly the same as he was before his death; but his mind held untold wisdom gained from his years in Mandos' Halls.  After wandering Arda for a time, Glorfindel finally chose to settle within the House of Elrond as a warrior, teacher, and friend.

And that was when the problems began.

Understand that Glorfindel was the first and only elf to ever return from the Halls of Mandos by strength of will.  While this was an incredible feat, it had its consequences.  Though he had returned as a much wiser version of himself, he had acquired a strange condition which the elves referred to as "Post Mandos Syndrome".  Things were fine and dandy with Glorfindel most of the time, but every few years, the Noldor's personality would go through a dramatic change.  For days, or even weeks, he would develop strange and disturbing habits.  He would become obsessed with bizarre and even dangerous things.  His tastes in clothing would completely change and he would begin to talk in the most obnoxious accents.  Basically, he would drive everyone he saw completely insane with his antics.  Often, if he could manage it, Elrond would have to chain Glorfindel to a tree on the outskirts of Imladris to prevent the other elves from stringing the Noldor up by his own golden hair.  Thankfully, Glorfindel had been acting completely normal for the past hundred years and everyone thought that he may have overcome his condition.

_I should have known it was too good to last. Elrond inwardly groaned as he sat in his private study with the twins._

"It was too good to last," Elrohir stated his father's thoughts out loud. "Things were going so well this past century.  I suppose it was only a matter of time before he had another bout of Post Mandos Syndrome."

"He can have as many bouts of Post Mandos Syndrome as he wants, as long as he leaves me out of it," Elladan grumbled as he pulled the last of the ribbons from his raven hair. "I never wish to go through that again.  Pink skirts are not my style."

"Nor is teal my style, but that is not the main problem here," Elrond interrupted before the elder twin could start another fit of ranting. "For the sake of everyone's sanity, we must keep Glorfindel from doing anything too foolish.  We can not have another incident like the last time this happened."

Both twins groaned simultaneously before Elladan spoke up. "Do not remind me about that.  His notion that running around without clothing would enable him to fly was a complete disaster.  Do you know how many railings and chairs he broke with his crash landings?"

Elrond sighed and rubbed his temples to release the tension in his head. "Actually I was thinking about what happened when the emissaries from Lórien showed up a week early; right when he was at his worst."

"At least he was sane enough to cover himself up," Elrohir pointed out.

"Covering himself with a single fig leaf did not do much good, brother," Elladan groaned. "Valar, I thought Galadriel would never stop yelling at you, Father."

"My ears were ringing for a month after that," The half-elf grumbled. "I suppose I should be thankful that she did not kill me when we explained what was going on with him.  In any case, we need to make sure that such an incident never happens again.  No matter what personality change Glorfindel receives, it will always lead to trouble eventually."

"Absolutely," Elladan growled as he shredded the ribbon in his hands. "Remember the time he became a pyromaniac?  I am surprised that all of Imladris was not burned to ashes."

"And then there was that phase where he dressed up in short skirts, tight shirts, and hair ribbons and watched people from behind plants while making those annoying little girly giggles," Elrohir grimaced.

"And then there was the time he cuddled up to anything male and asked to see their "bow"." [2]

"Mother was not too happy about that one.  Then there was the time he acted like a pregnant cat."

"And the facial masks made of horse manure."

"And the lucky warg's tooth that was still attached to the warg."

"And the time he did nothing but consume lembas and dwarf ale for three straight weeks."

"And the elven schizophrenia!"

"No, no, Elrohir.  That was not because of Mandos Syndrome.  That was because he got kicked in the head by that old mule."

"Oh yes.  Sorry."

"The point is, my sons," Elrond interrupted. "that we must keep Glorfindel out of trouble before he causes any more problems.  Are we in agreement?"

As one, the three of them nodded.

*          *          *

The next morning found Glorfindel sitting quite contentedly before a roaring fire, despite it being the middle of summer.  In his hands, a pair of knitting needles flashed in the firelight and clicked rhythmically.  The giant pile of yarn at his feet was pulled up into a huge tangle that was slowly taking shape.  Or at least Glorfindel thought it was taking shape.  An outside observer would only see a massive blob of knotted yarn.

"Wakey wakey, Mr. Snuggles," The reborn elf called over his shoulder.

Glorfindel had spent countless hours the previous day creating a miniature version of his own bed for Mr. Snuggles, complete with four post canopy and silk sheets.  The full scale and miniature beds now stood side by side.  The golden haired elf's eyes were fixed on Mr. Snuggles' bed.  Though the sheets did not move, Glorfindel could see a little six-legged puppy jump out from underneath them and scuttle over to his side.  Glorfindel's eyes were focused on nothing as they traveled from the immaculately made bed, to the floor, and then to his feet.

"Oh what a good boy you are, Mr. Snuggles," Glorfindel cooed into empty air.  "Such a wonderful, smart, clever, cutie little good boy.  Look, I am making you something pretty."

He held up the shapeless blob of yarn, revealing that it actually was not as shapeless as it seemed.  The Noldor had, in fact, knitted a bright pink sweater with six sleeves and the elven rune for "S" on the front in canary yellow.  It was the perfect size for a puppy.

It was at that point that Elrond just happened to walk in.

"Glorfindel, will you be joining us for the noon meal?  The cooks are preparing a wonderful…" The half-elf's voice trailed off as he observed one of the most respected elves holding up the ugliest sweater he had ever seen.

Glorfindel beamed at his old friend and held up his knit creation. "Elrond, look.  Is it not the most perfect sweater in all of Arda?"

"Oh yes, Glorfindel, it is beautiful," Elrond nodded, not ready to start questioning his sanity this early in the day.

"Only the best for my Snuggy-poo," The Noldor cooed to a blank spot on the floor.

"Yes," The half-elf muttered through his teeth. "Only the best.  So will you be joining us?"

"Forgive me, but I must pass.  Mr. Snuggles wants to go and play outside now.  Perhaps we will join you later."

Elrond gave his old friend a hard stare, as if searching for some trace of sanity from the golden haired elf.  Upon seeing none, Elrond sighed in resignation and left, closing the door behind him.

When the Lord of Imladris was gone, Glorfindel gave a wide grin to his invisible six-legged puppy. "Come, Mr. Snuggles.  Let us go outside and frolic together."

Sure enough, five minutes later, Glorfindel was frolicking about in a grassy meadow with a pink, six-legged sweater tucked under his arm. 

*          *          *

As night crept over the valley, two identical figures were seen sneaking into Imladris' kitchens.  It had always been a joke among the elves that Elladan and Elrohir were part Hobbit from the size of their appetites; and their penchant for midnight snacks only served as further proof.  In no time, one of the long preparation tables within the kitchen was piled high with leftovers and fixings for the next morning's breakfast.

"Brother, are there any more of those strawberry tarts that we had at dinner?  I really have a craving for them right now," Elrohir said as he rummaged through the cupboards.

Elladan shoved a plate of the tarts toward his twins as he picked up a container of thick, puce colored, paste. "What do you suppose this is?  It smells awful."

Elrohir shoved another tart in his mouth and dipped a finger into the odd concoction.  He gave the thick paste on his finger an experimental lick and wrinkled his nose in very obvious disgust.  "It would appear that this is Figwit's latest concoction."

It should be noted that Figwit was an elf who was very conscientious about his health and physical appearance.  He was forever trying to create "miracle sauce" to put on all of his food that would make his skin glow brighter and his hair sleeker and shinier.  Unfortunately, Figwit was not the greatest of cooks and his experimentations often resulted in mush that could gag a troll.  

"What did he use this time?" Elladan grimaced as he immediately threw the "miracle sauce into the nearest rubbish bin.

Elrohir grabbed a damp cloth and attempted to clean the paste off of his finger. "If my taste buds are right, and they always are, then I believe he used orange peels, rotting salamander skin, crushed mountain laurels, and a dash of medicinal tea that Father prepared two weeks ago."

"And just how do you know that the tea was prepared two weeks ago?  While we are on the subject, how do you know what rotting salamander skin tastes like." Elladan eyed his twin suspiciously.

Elrohir simply shrugged. "Oh.  Father made the tea for me when I ate a rotting salamander skin two weeks ago."

Elladan stared as if his brother had grown a third head. "There are times when I wonder about you."

Any further comments were interrupted as Glorfindel suddenly burst through the kitchen doors with a peacock under one arm.  

"Glorfindel?" Elladan hesitantly called to the Noldor who was now frantically throwing cupboards open.

"No time to speak, my friends," Glorfindel said over his shoulder as he threw random items onto a countertop.  "Mr. Snuggles is ill and I must help him."

Elrohir leaned over and whispered into his twin's ear. "How can an invisible friend become ill?"

Elladan shrugged.

Glorfindel began dumping buckets of water into a pot over a cooking fire. "I heard that certain types of soup are the best thing to give any ill being.  Chicken soup is one of the best, from what I have learned.  While I have very little knowledge of culinary arts, I have been meaning to learn for a long time.  What better way to start than to create a meal that will nurse my Snugglies back to health?  Oh my, I feel like the mother I have always wanted to be."

As he rambled on about nothing in particular, the golden haired elf's hands were busy slicing up anything within reach and dumping it into the pot.  Carrots, potatoes, and tomatoes were perfectly cut and added like most normal soups.  The twins could not help but cringe, though, when Glorfindel began adding items he had unknowingly pulled from the rubbish bin; stale bread crusts, day old fish bones, and all of Figwit's "miracle sauce".

"Let me think," Glorfindel tossed another bucketful of water into the pot, though most of it sloshed onto the floor. "I believe that I am to let it boil for a few minutes before I add the chicken."

"Forgive me, Glorfindel," Elrohir cast a glance at the bird that was now sitting on the counter and attempting to preen its disheveled feathers. "But why do you have a peacock?"

"You two know how difficult it is to find a chicken around Imladris," Glorfindel replied matter-of-factly.

"It is even more difficult to find a peacock," Elrohir muttered under his breath. 

It was at that time that the peacock realized why it was sitting in a kitchen next to a pot of boiling water.  With an undignified squawk, it jumped down from the table and scuttled away before anyone could stop it.

"Oh dear," The Noldor was crestfallen as he watched the bird disappear from view. "Now what am I going to do about the soup?"

Elladan groaned. "Believe me, Glorfindel, it will make no difference.  Mr. Snuggles will hardly notice a difference."

"Really?" Glorfindel brightened. "Oh thank you, Elladan.  You are such a smart elf.  I am sure that Mr. Snuggles will love his soup without chicken."

"Peacock."

"Whatever.  Now, I wonder if it is done yet."

It was all the twins could do from retching right then and there as Glorfindel pulled a spoonful of "soup" out of the pot and shoved it in his mouth.

"Hmmmm…" Glorfindel looked thoughtful as he licked his lips. "Perfect!  I shall give this to Mr. Snuggles now.  Good night my friends."

Grabbing the giant pot, Glorfindel made his way out of the kitchens.  Once he was out of site of the twins, though, he dropped the pot as his face turned green and he ran for the nearest bush.

*          *          *

"So where is he now?" Elrond grumbled as he finished toweling off his hair. 

Elladan gave a huge yawn before answering. "He is giving Mr. Snuggles a bubble bath."

"A bubble bath?"

"Yes," Elrohir growled as he scrubbed a particularly stubborn stain on his tunic. "He is planning on entering Mr. Snuggles in a beauty pageant.  Apparently the tap-dancing maroon squirrel is the current reigning champion."

"Well at least someone around here will be clean then," the Lord of Imladris groaned and walked back into the bathing room to wash his hair again.

The previous night had been anything but restful for Elrond and his kin.  Glorfindel had insisted that they hold a great festival in honor of Mr. Snuggles' first toenail clipping.  Of course, all of the Noldor's orders were issued by Mr. Snuggles.  The festivities included an arrow sculpture building contest, boiled lobster races, and a pudding feast.  According to Mr. Snuggles, Glorfindel had announced that Elrond was to be crowned the Great Pudding King and tradition demanded that the half-elf be dunked in a particularly large tureen of tapioca pudding in celebration.  Immediately afterwards, Glorfindel began flinging the pudding everywhere, claiming that Mr. Snuggles said it was the customary way to pay homage to the new Great Pudding King.  Needless to say, the next morning saw all of the elves cleaning up the mess and silently plotting ways to maim the golden haired elf.  

"This has to stop," Elrond glared at his still stained hair. "Someone has to stop Glorfindel before his insanity becomes too much for us to handle.  Elrohir, grab the chains; Elladan, the sleeping draught."

*          *          *

Once more, Glorfindel was frolicking about in a meadow with Mr. Snuggles as they celebrated his obtainment of the title "Most Likely to Beat a Tap-Dancing Maroon Squirrel in a Beauty Pageant".  

"Snuggy-Wuggy?" Glorfindel looked down at the empty space under his arm. "I am tired of frolicking.  What say we play a game?"

Silence

"Wonderful!  Fetch sounds like a marvelous idea!"

Five minutes later, a rather large pile of sticks was lying twenty feet away from Glorfindel.  

"Fetch, Snugglies!" The Noldor laughed as he threw another stick which landed harmlessly in the growing pile. "Silly Mr. Snuggles.  You are supposed to bring the sticks back, not jump over them.  Let us try that again."

After an hour of stick tossing, Glorfindel finally became tired and sank down into the grass.  He idly stroked the air a foot above his chest.

"Mr. Snuggles, you are my very best friend in all of Arda.  We will be friends forever will we not?"

His only answer was a rustle of leaves as a bird took flight.

"What?" Glorfindel sat up and stared at his empty lap. "What do you mean we will not?"

Silence

"You are leaving?"

More silence

"You have found a new best friend!  Who?"

Nothing

"Tim the disgruntled post master of Rohan!  What does he have that I do not have?"

Again, there was absolute silence.

"Who cares about his collection of shiny horse hairs!?  Was I not good to you?  Did I not treat you like the prince you are?"

Still more silence

"What!  You are not the prince of Tuffyland?  You lied to me?"

Glorfindel did not seem to realize that he was receiving absolutely no response because he was yelling at a figment of his own imagination.

  "Fine then!  Leave!  I do not care!  You mean nothing to me!"

When Elrond and his sons finally found Glorfindel, the Noldor was kneeling on the ground and sobbing into his hands.  His golden hair was sticking to the tear tracks that ran down his cheeks.  Curious, the half-elf motioned for the twins to put down the items they were going to use to subdue the Noldor and knelt down next to his friend.

"Glorfindel?  What troubles you my friend?"

"Elrond!" Glorfindel threw his arms around the elf lord's neck and proceeded to soak his finally clean robes with his tears. "Mr. Snuggles left me!"

Three raven haired elves all exchanged looks of total confusion.

"A plague upon the Rohirrim and all of their disgruntled postal workers!  How could he find them more wonderful than I am?  Did he not think I was pretty enough in the paisley dress?  Should I have worn the taffeta one instead?  Oh, Mr. Snuggles you cheating, lying, deceitful, sly, two-timing, backstabbing snake!  _Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina [3]!  How could you do this to me you…you…HUMAN?!"_

Elrond chose to ignore that remark.

"You have gone and left me all alone.  Now I do not have anyone to talk to that could possibly understand what I have gone through all these ages."

The Lord of Imladris sighed in relief.  Mr. Snuggles was gone and Glorfindel seemed to finally be returning to normal.

But even he could be wrong…

For the next few days, Glorfindel neither ate nor slept.  He stayed locked up in his room, curled up in a ball on his bed, and cried day in and day out.  Elrond was seriously beginning to worry about his old friend.  The Noldor had already been sent to Mandos once in battle.  He could not bear for him to be sent there again from grief.  Nothing he could do could bring Glorfindel out of this dreadful melancholy.  

"Father?" Elrohir tentatively entered the elf lord's private study. "Has there been any change?"

"None," The half-elf sighed. "I fear that unless something is done soon, we will not be able to help Glorfindel."

The younger twin grabbed his father by the arm and yanked him to his feet. "And I believe that if you do not stop worrying, we shall not be able to help you either.  Come, let us take a walk.  Elladan and Arwen are seeing to one of the horses in the stable who has gone into labor.  Perhaps seeing the birth of a new life will help ease your despair."  

Elrond could not help but smile.  His sons, immature as they were most of the time, could be very wise when they chose.  Nodding his assent, he allowed Elrohir to lead him toward the stables.  

"Father, you are just in time!" Arwen smiled as she met Elrond and Elrohir at the stables. "She will give birth any minute now!"

Within the stables, Elladan was gently patting a very pregnant mare and whispering soft elvish words of encouragement and strength in her ears.  Seconds after the elf-lord reached the stall, the birth was done.  A gangly little foal with a flawless white coat was wobbling about on unsteady legs as his mother nudged him along with her nose.

"What shall we call the little one, Father?" Elladan smiled as he watched the foal's antics. 

Elrond thought for a moment. "I believe that we should name him…Asfaloth."

"Oh Father, he is absolutely perfect!" Arwen cooed. "Please let me have him.  I will take such good care of him and raise him to be a strong runner.  Please let me have him, Father.  Please?"

A sudden flash of brilliance flashed in the elf lord's mind. "No, Arwen.  I know of someone who needs this horse much more.  If you all will excuse me, I have to take care of an urgent matter."

As Elrond hurried off, Arwen sulked. "I will get that horse.  One way or another, Asfaloth will be mine." [4] 

*          *          *

Elrond picked the lock on Glorfindel's room and walked in without so much as a knock.  He knew the other elf lord would not answer the door on his own.  Glorfindel was still curled up on the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

"Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel shifted slightly on the bed.

"Glorfindel, I have something that may help you.  Will you come with me?"

The Noldor shook his golden head.

A slight scowl appeared on the half-elf's face. "You are coming with me whether you want to or not.  Right, my sons?"

Elladan and Elrohir burst into the room and tackled Glorfindel where he lay. In a flash, he was suspended between the two with Elladan grabbing his arms and Elrohir grabbing his legs.  Grinning like a pair of hobgoblins, the twins rushed out of the room with their captive in tow.  Elrond shook his head in mock disbelief before following.  

Glorfindel was hauled out to the stables where the twins unceremoniously tossed him over one of the stall walls.  The Noldor hit the ground with a satisfying thump.

For the first time in several days, Glorfindel spoke. "What is that smell?"

Twin faces appeared over the wall and tried to refrain from laughing.

"Sorry about that, Glorfindel," Elrohir snorted. "I suppose we should have aimed better."

It was at this point that Elrond walked in and saw the interesting position his old friend was in. "Elladan, Elrohir, would you care to explain why Glorfindel, Noldor and elf lord, is sitting in a pile of horse manure?"

The twins responded to this in the only way they knew how; by running for their lives.  Elrond groaned as they escaped before turning his attention the Noldor before him.  Dragging Glorfindel to his feet, Elrond led him to a low table set up within the stall.  The table was set up with a tea pot, a tea cup, and a large saucer.

"What is this all about, Elrond?" Glorfindel looked up at the half-elf.

Elrond smiled and seated the golden haired elf in front of the teacup. "I know how upset you are at losing your friend, Glorfindel.  But I believe that I have found someone else that you may have tea with.  Well, very diluted tea.  Sit right here and I shall fetch him."

Once the Lord of Imladris had left, Glorfindel helped himself to a cup of tea.  Upon tasting, he discovered that it was indeed diluted as Elrond had said.  Scrunching his face up at the taste, Glorfindel proceeded to pour the rest of the teapot's contents into the saucer.  

The Noldor was so wrapped up in the awful taste that he did not hear someone enter the stall.  It was not until a wet nose rubbed his neck that Glorfindel realized with a start that he was not alone.  He whirled around and found himself face to face with the pure white face of a male foal.

Elrond chuckled from behind the young horse. "Glorfindel, meet Asfaloth.  He was just born this morning and is currently looking for an elf that can raise him to be a fine horse."

Glorfindel found himself at a loss for words as he looked up at the half-elf. "You would give him to me?"

"I can think of no one better suited for the job," Elrond smiled. "You will raise him well and he, in turn, will be a very loyal companion.  I shall leave the two of you to become better acquainted now."

The Lord of Imladris smiled to himself as he left the stables.  Arwen, who witnessed the whole thing, fell in step beside her father as he made his way back to the main house.

"Do you truly think this will work out, Father?"

"I do not doubt it.  Asfaloth will be the perfect companion for Glorfindel, for he is playful, spirited, and loyal.  And unlike Mr. Snuggles, he is visible, does not promote insane ideas, and, most important of all, he can not talk."

Meanwhile, Asfaloth was helping himself to the saucer of tea.  Glorfindel watched the foal with a look of pure wonder on his face.  This creature was absolutely amazing and would grow to be a fine horse.  And he belonged to him.  Glorfindel smiled brightly as he began dropping sugar lumps into his tea cup.

"At least you are enjoying that tea.  I need to sweeten mine up.  I would offer you some, but I know that horses can not talk."

Asfaloth stopped drinking and looked up at the Noldor with his big brown eyes.  He raised his hoof and gestured toward the sugar bowl.

"Two sugars please."      

**The End**

[1] Has anyone else noticed the look on Gimli's face when the Fellowship is caught by the Lórien elves?  I thought it was hilarious!

[2] This is actually something from Orlando Bloom.  In an interview he said that one of his favorite things about playing Legolas was that he can go up to people and say "Wanna see my bow?"

[3] _Llie__ n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina!- You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny! (No joke, this is an actual translation)_

[4] Yes, I'm one of those people who didn't like how Arwen got to ride Asfaloth in the movie.  

**A/N: And so ends chapter 1.  I have a lot of ideas for some of the other elves, but I will need some help.  I need more ideas for the following elves:**

Elladan and Elrohir

Elrond

Thranduil

Orophin

Rúmil

Gil-Galad 

Send me a review with your ideas and I'll pick the ones I think will work best.

**NEXT CHAPTER: Arwen-Misinterpreting what you hear can lead to big trouble. **


	3. Arwen

**Author's Notes: **And so begins the second story about a "Less than Perfect" elf.  Arwen fans beware!  From what I'm planning, there will be two chapters rated PG-13 for implied sexual situations.  This is one of those two.  Rest assured, it's all merely implied and strictly for comedy's sake.  This chapter is based quite a bit on the movie.  I love the books to death, but I needed a scene from the movie to make it all work. 

And now for a much different note.  Treehugger brought it to my attention that the acronym for Post Mandos Syndrome was PMS.  Needless to say, I fell over laughing when I realized that she was absolutely right!  I hadn't even thought of that!  My beta didn't even catch it.  Ha ha!  That really made my night.

**Arwen; Queen of Really Bad Timing**

Arwen was frustrated.  This was not the same kind of frustration experienced by someone who was having great difficulty accomplishing some task.  No, this kind of frustration was different.  Arwen's frustration was that of a fully developed maiden with no output for her raging hormones.  She had tried everything she could think of to take her mind off of her body's longing, from needlepoint to live orc skinning, but nothing helped.  She was continuously plagued by the face of her beloved son of Arathorn and the promise she made to her father years ago.

*FLASHBACK*

"You wished to speak with me, Adar?" Arwen asked as she stepped into the Lord of Imladris' private study.

"Indeed I did," Elrond sighed, setting down the book he was reading. "I do not wish to drag this conversation longer than necessary, so I will simply cut to the chase.  I am aware of your love for Aragorn and I know that you are willing to give up your immortality for him.  Do you deny this?"

"No, Adar," Arwen lowered her eyes. "I love Estel with all of my being and would gladly sacrifice the ageless life of the Eldar race to be with him.  No one will stop me from being with the Man I love; not even you, Adar."

The half-elf sighed and rubbed one of his temples. "You know that I am completely against your decision.  I have no desire to loose my only daughter to a mortal life.  And yet I know that I will never persuade you otherwise, for you are more stubborn than the combined forces of all the elves and dwarves in Arda.  All I ask, at the very least, is that you make me a promise."

"I shall, for I have no wish to see the face of my loving father so grieved."

Elrond nodded and grasped one of his daughter's hands in both of his own. "Very well.  Remember that you are the daughter of the Lord of Imladris.  And as my daughter, I want you to promise me that you shall remain untouched until you are wed."

"Untouched?  Adar, I can not agree to this.  I would surely die of grief if Estel could not hold my hand or kiss my cheek."

"No, no," Elrond shook his head. "I mean that you are not to let any bed you until you are married."

"I am not allowed to sleep in a bed?"

"No.  You are only allowed to sleep in your bed."

"Can Estel sleep in my bed too?"

"NO!  You are to sleep alone in your bed!"

"What if I get lonely and need company?"

"You shall just have to deal with it."

"What if I want your company?"

"…I suppose that would be alright."

"And my brothers?"

"Yes, yes.  They may keep you company."

"Can Estel?"

"NO!"

"He can not comfort me if I am grieved over something?"

"Only if he does not touch you."

"So he can not hug me?"

"Yes!  I mean no!  I mean that you will not allow Aragorn or anyone else to have sex with you!" 

"Oh.  Why did you not say that in the first place?"

*END FLASHBACK*

That conversation still confused her to no end even now.  Growling with frustration, Arwen tossed aside the book she had been attempting to read and went to speak to her father.  Surely he could think of something that would stop these raging hormones that plagued her with very enticing visions of her beloved.  Her mind made up, Arwen set off to her father's chambers.

When she arrived at the giant ornate door that lead into her father's bedroom, Arwen was only mildly surprised to discover that it was closed.  The Lord of Imladris often liked to shut himself up somewhere in order to think in peace.  Arwen raised her hand to knock, but hearing voices inside the room stilled her hand.  Pressing a sensitive ear to the door, she heard her father's voice.

"Mmmmmmmm!  Oh Glorfindel!"

Arwen jumped away from the door as if it had turned into an orc.  _My father and Glorfindel!  They are…When did they…I can not believe this!  Glorfindel is bedding my father!  Or maybe it is the other way around!  __Either way, they are lovers and it sounds like they are really enjoying themselves in there!  Her traitorous hormonal mind began providing her with a number of images depicting exactly what her father and Glorfindel were doing, and none of them helped the situation.  In fact, they only served to intensify the burning desires within her.  _

Turning quickly, Arwen all but raced away from Elrond's chambers.  

"Perhaps I should speak to Elladan and Elrohir instead," She said to herself as she briskly walked. "Somehow I highly doubt that Adar could stop the burning fire within me when he is too busy sating his own desires.  And with Glorfindel no less!  The twins should help me.  They have always aided me in the past.  Yes, I know my brothers will help me."

*          *          *

Meanwhile, inside Elrond's chambers…

"Mmmmmm!  Oh Glorfindel!"

"So, does it meet with your approval?"

The half-elf smiled at his Noldor friend and took another bite out of the slice of cake in front of him.  Elrond closed his eyes in pure bliss as he savored every bite.  

Swallowing, Elrond spoke again to the blonde elf. "Glorfindel, it more than meets with my approval.  Never before have I tasted anything so delicious!  You truly have a gift for baking."

Glorfindel blushed at the compliment and helped himself to another slice. "I did not know that I could either until the baking elf got food poisoning after mistaking one of Figwit's 'miracle sauces' for icing.  Apparently desperate times bring out hidden talents."

"And what talent!" Elrond cheered as he licked the last of the icing off of his fingers. "Perhaps I should appoint you as the head baker in this household.  Of course, then I would be losing my best warrior and tracker.  At the very least, you must bake cakes like this one more often for my family and me."

"As you wish, my lord," Glorfindel chuckled and half bowed. "Perhaps I shall grace your table with another cake tonight at dinner."

"I shall look forward to it!" Elrond beamed as he stole the remains of cake away from Glorfindel when the Noldor looked away.

*          *          *

"The twins can help me," Arwen repeated to herself as she hurried to her brothers' rooms. "Elladan and Elrohir can give very good advice when they are not acting like complete idiots.  They have also gone through these same urges as they were growing up.  Surely they can give me words of wisdom that will cease these hormonal desires."

Stopping by Elrohir's room, Arwen noticed that the younger twin was not there.  She was sure that he and Elladan must have come back from their latest hunt earlier that morning.  Perhaps Elrohir was in Elladan's room.  Elladan's door, the next one down from Elrohir's, was closed.  As Arwen moved closer, she could here voices coming from the other side of the door that distinctively belonged to the twin sons of Elrond.  Arwen was about to open the door, when a low moan inside the room abruptly stopped her.

"Lower, lower.  Oh yes!  Yes Elrohir!  Now harder.  Harder!"

Arwen yelped as she backed away from the door.  _This can not be!  Elladan and Elrohir are lovers as well?  I had no idea that they were interested in incest.  Oh Elbereth, from the sound of it, I would say that Elrohir is quite skilled in arousing Elladan.  No!  Do not think of that!  Oh curse these hormones!  I do not want to have mental images of my brothers going at it like hobbits!  Though I do like imagining their bare chests…No!  Do not go there!  Oh Valar, why is this happening to me?  First I find out that my father is sleeping with Glorfindel and now I have learned that my brothers are lovers as well!  Will this torture not end?_

"The kitchens," Arwen firmly told herself as she hustled away from Elladan's room as fast as her legs could carry her. "Perhaps a bite to eat will calm my nerves and distract my mind from these enticing images that it seems keen to show me.  

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in Elladan's room…

"Yes Elrohir!  Now harder.  Harder!"

"I am pressing as hard as I can, Brother.  Calm down.  I am not trying to finish in a hurry."

Elladan sighed in pleasure and leaned back against his brother, thoroughly enjoying the massage he was receiving.  Elrohir chuckled as his fingers vigorously worked on the tensed muscles in his twin's right arm.  

"Honestly, Elladan, how many times have I warned you about overexerting yourself in our hunts?  You never listen to me, though.  Honestly, you are so arrow happy it is a miracle your shooting arm still works at all.  Perhaps we should wait a little longer before our next hunt so your arm will have more time to relax and heal."

"Do not even think such thoughts, Elrohir," Elladan replied firmly from where he lay against his twin's chest. "We can not stop until every last orc in the Misty Mountains is slain."

"Then we will be hunting for a long time, even by elven standards, Brother," Elrohir interjected as he worked a particularly stubborn knot.

Elladan grumbled in protest, but it was half-hearted.  He was enjoying the arm massage too much to start an argument.  Sighing in resignation, the elder twin closed his eyes and smiled at the feel of his brother's fingers relaxing his sore arm muscles.

*          *          * 

"Food is good.  Food means eating.  Eating means activity.  Activity means mind on something other than elven hormones and images of Estel," Arwen continued to repeat her little mantra as she journeyed to the kitchens.  

Once she was within site of the kitchen doors, a pungent odor caused Arwen to stop dead in her tracks.  Foul odors emanating from the famed kitchens of the House of Elrond could only mean one thing; Figwit was experimenting with more "miracle sauce".  Squaring her shoulders and raising her head high, Arwen continued toward her destination.  Nothing would stop her on her quest to rid her mind and body of their burning desires, even if it meant being in the same area as Figwit and his putrid concoctions.  

_And who knows.  If all else fails, I could eat some of that sauce and it will completely knock me out.  If I am unconscious, then I will not be forced to remember what my father, brothers, and Glorfindel are currently doing._

Arwen was about to burst through the kitchen doors when she heard the last thing she ever expected.      

"Yes, Lindir!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!"

Arwen spun around on her heels and proceeded to walk in the opposite direction of the kitchens, muttering. "Food is bad.  Food means kitchens.  Kitchens means Figwit and Lindir.  Figwit and Lindir means even more male lovers.  Even more male lovers means Arwen will find no relief!"

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in the kitchens…

_I do not need this right now.  Figwit inwardly grumbled as he mixed up his latest batch of "miracle sauce".  This new recipe had to be the right one.  Mixing rose petals with rat spleens in a vat of boiling oil seemed to be the best possible combination.  Figwit was studiously trying to get the mixture just right.  Or at least that was what he was trying to do.  Unfortunately, his mind was more focused on smacking Lindir in the head than figuring out the best rose to spleen ratio.  His fellow Imladris elf had barged in without warning and immediately proceeded to throw completely random questions at him.  Figwit had learned long ago when Lindir first started pestering him that it was always best to simply say "yes" to every question, no matter how bizarre it was, or else be thrown into a huge debate.  _

"Figwit, is it true that the "Ballad of Smokey the Dragon" is considered sacrilegious if it is sung under a full moon on the twelfth day of the new year when apple trees start sprouting furry pears?"

"Yes, Lindir," Figwit grumbled as he added some warg dung for color.

"And do hobbits always sprout wings and flutter about like little pixies throughout Angmar when they have consumed too much mead?"  

"Yes, Lindir," Figwit's patience was starting to grow thin.

"What about orcs?  Do they really have competitions to decide who is the prettiest?"  
"Yes Lin-No!" Figwit cursed as the venomous cobra he was skinning slipped out of his hands and knocked the boiling pot over, spilling all of its contents across the kitchen floor.  He glared at Lindir over his shoulder.

"Oh my," Lindir gasped as he sidestepped the river of boiling oil. "That was most unfortunate.  Now where was I?  Oh yes!  Are horses really just giant fire-breathing trout that are secretly waiting for the right moment to turn us all into tree fungus?  Or was that water-spouting fire demons?  I can never get them straight.  And is it true that clapping your hands together three times while hopping up and down on one foot while wearing the bark of an Ent will result in the transformation of dwarves into flesh eating trees for a fortnight?  And did Isildur really use the shards of Narsil to pick his teeth after devouring the corpse of Oropher of Mirkwood; which caused his spirit to start a floor show with Men in dresses within the Hall of Mandos?"

That was it.  Figwit snapped.

"Yes, Lindir!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!"

The younger elf stared at Figwit in complete shock. "There is no need to be so rude, Figwit.  I only had one more question."

"Fine," Figwit growled at his companion. "What?"

"Is it true that dwarves were actually created by the Valar before the elves were?"

"Yes…wait…were they?" [1]

*          *          *

"Must move faster.  Must move faster.  Must move faster," Arwen chanted as she traveled through the halls of Imladris.

Upon overhearing the activities of Figwit and Lindir in the kitchens, Arwen had decided that putting as much distance between herself and the raunchy elves she was forced to live with was the best idea.  _Elbereth, am I the only elf in all of Imladris that is not getting any?  Throwing all of her lessons on how a lady should behave properly aside, the daughter of Elrond found herself running out the door like a rabbit pursued by wargs.  Her raven hair, unbelievably tangled from the speed of her flight, flew behind her like a dark cloak.  Putting the last of her energy into a final sprint, Arwen did not stop until she was in the center of Imladris' many gardens.  She gave a great sigh of relief as she flopped down on a stone bench and took a moment to catch her breath.  The gardens were extremely peaceful that afternoon, Arwen noticed.  __It feels as though nothing can spoil the tranquility of this place.  _

And that was when she heard Erestor yelling from behind the bushes with great frustration in his voice.

"Who is your ada?  Tell me!  Who is your ada?"

Blanching, Arwen jolted up from her seat and ran right back into the house.  _Not even the gardens will give me sanctuary from these hormonal driven elves!  Why, Valar, why?_

As soon as the doors to the house slammed shut, Erestor walked out from behind the bushes with a sobbing elven child holding his hand.

"Forgive me, little one.  I did not mean to shout, but I feared that you would not hear my question over your sobs.  You are scared enough, lost as you are, without me frightening you more.  Now, dry your tears and tell me who your ada is so that I may take you home."

 Doors flew by as Arwen ran full speed through the hallways.  Anyone who happened to be passing by would only have seen a blur of fluttering skirts and dark hair as the distraught Evenstar passed through.  As she raced along, Arwen desperately tried to block out the voices she heard whenever she passed the rooms of her father and brothers.

"Elrohir, that is the spot," Elrond's voice could be heard from within his room. "A little harder please."

"Oh Glorfindel!  Mmmmmmmm," Came Elladan's moans from another room.

"Do not listen to them," Arwen growled to herself. "They must know how much this both annoys and excites you.  They are switching partners just to rub the fact that they are free to sate their desires and you are not in your face."

Arwen did not stop her flight until she burst into her own room and locked the door securely.  She slumped against the door and pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to ward off a growing migraine.  _This is just great.  My body is screaming for the touch of another, Estel is off gallivanting about on some adventure only Valar knows where, all of the elves here are bedding each other like hobbits (or worse, like rabbits),  my body is only getting more aroused from what I am hearing, and now I have a migraine to top it all off.  _

"Valar, why do you torment me so?" She yelled into empty air.

Stumbling back to her feet, the daughter of Elrond went to her closets and began rummaging through them.  Clothes were flung aside and various other items were tossed to the floor as she searched.  After a few minutes, Arwen beamed as she pulled out the object of her searches; a long, ornate, elven sword.  Gently, she ran her fingers over the curved white blade before tightly gripping the smoothly polished hilt.  It would do quite nicely.

"So now it comes to this," Arwen whispered to the glistening blade. "I have sought aid and only found more frustration.  If I am not allowed to find my relief in this world, then I shall find relief in Mandos' Halls.  I hear he is quite handsome," As she spoke, Arwen raised the sword until the blade tip was a hairsbreadth from her breast. "Farewell my family.  I am sure that you will find comfort in each others' arms after my death.  Farewell my friends, for I am sure you will do just the same as my family.  You hormonal rabbits will never truly understand the torture I have gone through in suppressing my desires.  Farewell Estel, my beloved.  My only regret is that I was never able to enjoy your sweet favors.  Farewell cruel world!"

Arwen was about to skewer herself with the sword when her ears picked up the voices of several elf maids passing by her door.

"Indeed, Lord Elrond is very worried.  He just received word from Mithrandir that his foster son is trying to protect several _perion while being pursued by five __Ulaire. [2]  It is fortunate that they are close enough to Imladris that a search party may be sent out."_

"I hope they are found soon," Another maid spoke up. "It must be dreadful to face those horrible black riders."

Arwen immediately burst through the doors and all but jumped on the closest maid standing outside.

"What do you mean Estel is in danger?  Is he close?"

"I-I believe so, m-my lady," The maid stammered when she saw the crazed look in the Evenstar's eyes, as well as the sword in her hand. "I b-believe they are only a f-few days away.  L-Lord Elrond has just sent Lord G-Glorfindel to f-find them."

Casting the maid aside, Arwen ran back into her room and grabbed her riding clothes before racing toward the stables.  _You had better not die before we are married, Estel.  If you do, I will travel to Mandos' Halls myself just to smack you in the head._

*          *          *

Glorfindel was bustling about the stables, preparing Asfaloth for their journey.  He lovingly stroked his beloved horse's mane as he finished tightening the saddle.  Asfaloth's muscles twitched with excitement and anticipation as he nudged the golden haired elf with his nose.  The stallion knew they would be going for a long ride and he was eager to get on the trail.  Glorfindel laughed in response to his horse's silent pleading and quickly double checked the harnesses.

Arwen watched both of them from behind several bales of hay. _I have to find Estel as quickly as possible.  When I do find him, perhaps he will give me a nice frolic to relieve this frustration.  We will be far enough away from here that Adar will never have to know.  Glorfindel, being a better tracker than I, would undoubtedly find him first if we were both searching.  That leaves me with only one choice.  If I am to find Estel, then I must not have any competition.  Sorry, Glorfindel, but I must take you out of the picture._

It took all of Arwen's will power to suppress an evil smirk as she stepped out from her hiding spot. "Oh Glorfindel?  May I see you for a moment?  It is of the utmost importance."

Curious, Glorfindel approached the younger elf.  Arwen motioned for him to follow her and the reborn elf complied, despite Asfaloth's whinny of frustration.  The daughter of Elrond led her old friend and teacher outside the stables to an abandoned storage shed.  Once she was sure that there was no one else around, Arwen pounced.  With speed and strength that only an elf could manage, she pulled ropes from a hidden spot and threw them around Glorfindel.  In seconds, the elder elf was bound and gagged upon the ground.  With a devilish grin on her face, Arwen dragged the protesting elf into the storage shed and secured the door.  Wiping the dirt from her hands off onto her skirt, Arwen headed back to the stables.

"Now that Glorfindel is out of the way, it is time for me to find my beloved and find great pleasure in his arms."

Once she had changed her clothes, Arwen was ready to mount her own horse.  However, a confused whinny stopped her.  Asfaloth was restlessly pacing about in his stall, confused and worried about what was taking his rider so long to return.  Arwen remembered how she had begged her father to let her keep Asfaloth when he was born, but Elrond had given the white stallion to Glorfindel instead.  The golden haired elf had raised the beautiful foal into the fastest and most loyal steed in all of Imladris.  Arwen smiled in triumph as she approached the restless stallion and grabbed his reigns.  

"I knew you would be mine some day, Asfaloth," She whispered into the horse's ear as she mounted up. "Now let us find Estel."

*          *          *

Three days later…

Arwen had thought it impossible to be more frustrated than she was three days earlier.  She was completely wrong.  Her entire "rescue" attempt had been fouled up from the beginning.  First; Aragorn had anything but pleasure on his mind when they were reunited.  Second; one of the _perion had been stabbed by a morgul blade and she had to ride back to Imladris with him while several __Ulaire__ pursued her.  Third; she was the only one with a horse and so Aragorn did not arrive in Imladris with the other hobbits until the next day.  Fourth; someone had found Glorfindel trussed up inside the storage shed.  It seemed that everywhere she went now; the golden haired elf would give her dirty looks or complain loudly about how she had stolen his horse.  And fifth; Aragorn's mind was still not thinking about pleasuring his beloved now that he was finally home.  Arwen had had just about enough of this.  _

"Either he will relieve this frustration, or I will simply jump on the first person I see and bed them immediately," Arwen vowed to the ceiling of her chambers.  

With renewed determination, she rolled out of bed and went in search of her dearest ranger.  She decided to check the gardens first.  Aragorn had always loved the gardens while growing up in Imladris, so that seemed the most likely place to find him.  As she walked, Arwen noticed that her home was more crowded than usual.  The threat of Mordor and the discovery of the One Ring had sent representatives from different realms to seek council with Lord Elrond.  Arwen recognized several dwarves from the Lonely Mountain that had stayed in Imladris before, though few of them seemed comfortable in a city populated by elves.  A handful of elves had come from Mirkwood, including King Thranduil's son Legolas.  There were also a few Men and a small group of elves from Valinor.  The eldest son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, had also just arrived that morning.  Aragorn would be a bit more difficult to find with all of these new people around, but Arwen knew she would eventually track him down.  

As she was passing by the vegetable gardens, Arwen's ears picked up Aragorn's voice.  Beaming, she ran in the direction of his voice.  This would be perfect.  What could be more exotic than a romp in a vegetable garden?  As she got closer, however, Arwen could make out a large amount of grunting coming from whoever Aragorn had been speaking too.  Hiding behind a flowering bush, she listened carefully.

"Come on, Sam.  Put some muscle into it.  It will never come unless you force it."

Arwen instantly paled.  _Sam?  Was that not the name of one of the hobbits he was with?  Is it possible that our time apart has caused him to look for love elsewhere?  This can not be happening!  She stumbled away from the bush, still in shock, and numbly made a hasty retreat to a bench on the other side of the gardens._

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in the vegetable gardens…

"Come on, Sam.  Put some muscle into it.  It will never come unless you force it."

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Strider sir, but it just won't budge."

Aragorn glared at the turnip that stubbornly stayed in the ground.  Sam had been trying to pull it out and put it in a soup that Frodo could drink while he recovered.  Unfortunately, the turnip refused to be plucked from its nice cool hole in the ground.  

"Step aside, Sam.  I will pull it out." 

Aragorn got a good grip of the buried vegetable's leaves.  With a grunt, he yanked at the turnip.  He suddenly understood why Sam was having such a difficult time.  The turnip would not move an inch, despite the fact that a full grown Man was trying to pull it out of the ground.  Its rumpled leaves waved in the light breeze, as if mocking them.  Aragorn heaved an exasperated sigh as he let go and sat down on the ground next to Sam.

"That little vegetable is as stubborn as a wounded elf.  Well, Sam, I guess you'll just have to pick another vegetable for Frodo's soup."

"I suppose so, Mr. Strider.  I'm sure Rivendell's gardens have lots of other vegetables that my master would appreciate.  I'll just keep looking then, I will."

*          *          *

Arwen spent the next hour trying to calm her nerves.  She paced around the bench, played with the hem of her skirt, shredded leaves, and growled at everything that passed by until she felt she was ready to confront Aragorn about what she had overheard between him and the hobbit known as Sam.  As she stood and made her way back to where she had last heard them, Arwen spotted two more halflings running into the woods.

"Come on, Pippin," Merry snickered. "We'll get him for sure this time."

"He won't know what hit him!" Pippin giggled as he followed the older hobbit.

Curious, Arwen decided to investigate what they were up to.  After living almost all of her life with Elladan and Elrohir, Arwen had learned to sense when pranks and jokes were about to be performed; and those two hobbits were positively glowing with planned mischief.  She followed closely with stealth only an elf could manage.  Her sensitive eyes caught site of Aragorn in the distance and she slowed her pace.  Merry and Pippin suddenly separated and ran off in opposite direction.  The daughter of Elrond silently kept moving to where Aragorn stood, unaware of her presence.  _What are those two up to and why does it involve Aragorn? _

Arwen was forced to stop when the hem of her dress suddenly snagged on a low bush.  Growling, she turned her head away from where Aragorn stood and directed her full attention to freeing her skirt from the offending bit of foliage. Her head shot up when she heard a thump and a groan low enough that it could only be made by Aragorn.  She looked back to where her favorite ranger had been a moment ago, but he was gone.  However, judging from the sound of his voice, he was now on the ground, hidden completely from her view.

"You two are wicked little demons, coming at me from both sides like that.  Ai!  Do that again."

Arwen did not hear any more as she bolted away with half of the bush still stuck to her dress.

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in the forest…

"So we really got you this time?  You didn't let us win?"

"No, Pippin," Aragorn groaned as he shoved the two hobbits off of him. "The two of you actually were able to launch a sneak attack on me.  I can not get used to how silent your kind can be sometimes."

"Aw, Strider," Merry grinned as he hopped back onto his feet. "We're not that silent. It's just all of the battle training and stealth tricks that you've been teaching us while we were traveling that made the difference."

Pippin nodded his head vigorously in agreement. "So are we ready?"

"Master hobbits, I believe that after a few more lessons, the two of you will be ready to launch a sneak attack on a small group of orcs," Aragorn winced and pulled out the rock that his spine had hit when he fell over. "I just wish that you had not knocked me down on this pile of rocks.  I am going to be sore for the rest of the night now."

*          *          *

_This can not be happening.  Estel can not be having affairs with those hobbits.  It has to be a misunderstanding.  He would not betray me like this, would he?  Perhaps I am no longer desirable to him.  Perhaps he did not wish to wait until after the wedding to make love.  Have I completely displeased him?_

Arwen paced back and forth around her room as endless questions and "what-ifs" filled her mind.  She had been pacing for the past several hours and the floor was developing a very distinct groove from where she had repeatedly stepped.  

"This is not helping me," She told herself. "There is only one way to answer these questions and doubts.  I must speak to Estel directly.  He will tell me the truth.  After all, he vowed to never lie to me.  Or at least that is what he said.  Perhaps he just said that to cover up the truth.  I must speak to him now!"

Arwen turned and headed for the door with new determination, only to trip on the edge of her self-created pacing groove and fall flat on her face.

Elrond's daughter briskly walked toward the room of the ill hobbit she had rescued, having learned from a passing maid that Aragorn had been seen there a few minutes earlier.  Her mind was focused and her will was hard as iron.  She was determined to get answers from Aragorn, no matter what it took.  She saw that the door to the hobbit's chamber was left ajar and prepared to walk in and demand an explanation from her intended.  That is, until she heard Aragorn's voice.

"Shhhh.  It is all right, little one.  I am sorry.  I will try to be gentler the next time."

Arwen's thoughts scattered and her will melted like ice.  Turning on her heel, she walked straight back to her chambers.  As soon as she turned the corner, Aragorn emerged from the hobbit's room and saw Lord Elrond walking toward him.

"How fares the hobbit this morning?" The half-elf questioned his foster son.

"Frodo is recovering well, though his wound was obviously still tender when I changed his bandages.  I was just on my way to find Sam.  I know he will be eager to hear of his master's healing progress."

*          *          *

"Lady Arwen, are you all right?  You seem very distressed.  Is there anything I might do to help you?"

Arwen was shaken out of her self-imposed melancholy by the voice of another.  She looked up and was gave a small sigh of relief to see that it was not anyone she was hiding from.  After what she heard in the ill hobbit's room, she had run straight to her father's chambers.  Unfortunately, the door was closed and she could hear him moaning in ecstasy over Glorfindel again.  Her brothers also sounded equally occupied.  She had immediately run to her favorite tree, deep in woods surrounding her home, in the hope of regaining her rapidly dwindling sanity through the quiet sounds of nature.  Though she had wanted to be alone, Arwen found herself feeling grateful for the arrival of this new person.

"I am afraid there is nothing you can do to help me, Prince Legolas.  But I thank you for your concern."

The son of Thranduil effortlessly scaled the tree until he was seated on the same branch as Arwen and gave her a smile. "Aragorn is worried too.  You have been rather distant to him ever since he arrived.  He also told me that you seem to become a mixture of disgusted and worried whenever you see him with the hobbits as well."

"He told you this?" Arwen gave the elf prince a hard stare.

Legolas was slightly taken aback. "Naturally.  Aragorn and I have been friends for many years.  He tells me almost everything."

"Oh really?"

"Well yes.  I can not even count how many times the two of us have swapped stories around a campfire after a good spider hunt."

Arwen suddenly got an idea. "Does he speak about me?"

"Absolutely, dear Evenstar.  You are always forefront in his mind, even when he is battling for his life."

"I wish he would stop doing that.  I have no desire for him to die a horrible bloody death before we are wed."

"Do not fear.  Aragorn is a very capable Man.  He has shown me time and time again just how capable he is."

"Capable?" Arwen could feel the throb of desire begin to grow. "Capable of what?"

"It amazes me how capable he is of showing such strength and endurance and passion in all that he does."

Arwen's throb of desire began to pound. "'All that he does'?"

"Why yes.  He is fully passionate about everything he does from slaying orcs to tending those wounds all over his backside."

"He has wounds on his backside?" 

"Oh yes.  It is a funny story, actually.  One that involves a hornets nest and a very disgruntled porcupine…"

"I see…" Arwen glared at the prince again. "And how do you know about these wounds?"

"That is because I am the one who treated them," Legolas replied innocently. "He always lets me see to his backside when it is sore.  I remember one time when we were bathing together and I was rubbing some aloe all over his rear.  He wanted me to use this special oil he had brought along on my sword to make it much more efficient."

"Ah!  No!  Stop!" Arwen screeched as she scrambled out of the tree and back to the ground. "I should have known.  You are in league with him too behind my back!  How could you do this to me, son of Thranduil?  How could you let _him do this to me?"_

"Let who do what?" Asked Boromir, who just happened to be passing by. "Who are you talking about?"

"We are talking about Arwen's intended," Legolas called down from the tree. "The ranger who brought the hobbits here a few days ago."

"Oh him," The man of Gondor replied with a slight tone of distaste. "Yes, I met him earlier today.  He showed me that he was very handy with his sword."

"Stop it!  Stop it!  Stop it!" Arwen yelled as she shoved the larger Man aside. "How could he do this?  After all we have meant to each other, he has turned on me and begun having relations with everyone he meets!  I can not take this any more!"

She ran off at that moment, babbling on about yearnings and men acting like rabbits, leaving two very confused warriors behind.  As she disappeared from view, Boromir looked back up at the blonde elf that was still in the tree.

"Are all she-elves like that?"

Legolas gulped and shot the man a nervous look. "If they are, then I can tell you here and now that I will never get married."

*          *          * 

"This is the last straw!  I can not live like this, knowing that my dearest Estel has gone and had all of these affairs behind my back!  I will not tolerate this any longer!"

Arwen was once again pacing about in her room.  The groove in her floor had deepened until it went up to her mid calf.  She had to do something soon.  Her hormones were once again racing and if she did not find relief soon, she would surely burst.  She vaguely recalled making a vow earlier to bed the first person she saw if Aragorn would not have her.  She paused in her pacing when she remembered this vow.  She had truly been desperate when she said it.  Bedding another would surely betray Aragorn and her father's trust.  _Yet they have betrayed me as well by having so many affairs.  __If it is possible, I am even more desperate than I was when I made that vow.   Adar has always said that desperate times may sometimes call for desperate measures.  I shall do it.  I shall betray Aragorn as he has betrayed me and bed the first person I see._

She gracefully hopped out of the groove, having learned earlier how deep it was, and headed straight for the gardens.  Her body nearly glowed as the heat within her intensified, excited about the prospect of finally getting some much needed attention.  She kept alert, waiting for any sign that someone was around.  She heard a deep, gruff voice behind a tree.

"I do not believe anything around here.  Elves are sneaky creatures and will not hesitate to turn on us the moment they are displeased.  They can not be trusted.  The sooner this whole council is over, the sooner I can return to the Lonely Mountain."

This was it.  Arwen dashed over to the tree and pounced on the figure that stood beside it.  In moments she was rubbing and kissing every spot of bare skin.  One hand was tangled in long, coarse, curly hair while the other was busy undoing the buckles on his armor.  

"Och!  What is this?" Arwen's victim shouted in surprise. "Someone get her off me.  Someone get this crazy she-elf off of me!"

"Arwen!"

Arwen suddenly stopped her ministrations when she heard Aragorn's voice.  She looked up and glared at her formerly beloved ranger when she saw the look of disbelief and betrayal on his face.  

"Arwen, dearest," Aragorn hesitantly moved closer to her. "Why are you molesting Gimli?"

It was then that Arwen got her first good look at the one she had jumped.  She pulled away in disgust when she realized that she was indeed molesting the son of Gloin.  The dwarf glared at her with murder in his eyes and would have cleaved her in two with his axe had Elrond not suddenly appeared.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded when he saw Arwen sitting on top of the much disheveled dwarf. "Arwen, you promised me that you would not bed anyone until you were wed."

"Tell that to him!" Arwen shouted, pointing accusingly at Aragorn. "He is the one having endless affairs behind my back!  If he wishes to bed everyone he meets, than it is only fair that I be allowed to do the same!"

"So that is why she has been acting so peculiar," Legolas mumbled as he joined Aragorn. 

Aragorn knelt down and gently extricated Arwen from Gimli. "Arwen, my beloved, I have not been having any affairs.  You are the only one that I have ever wished to take to my bed."

"But I heard you and those hobbits earlier today," She began to sob. "I heard you and Sam grunting together in the gardens."

"I was helping him pull some rather stubborn vegetables out of the garden."

"And then you told Merry and Pippin to 'do it again' after they came after you from both sides."

"I was teaching them some fighting techniques."

"And what about being gentler with Frodo?"

"I was treating his wounds."

"And then Legolas and Boromir were telling me about how you were having affairs with them too."

"Actually, Lady Arwen," Legolas interrupted. "We have not.  I believe you misinterpreted what we said."

"So…" Arwen tentatively looked up at the Man beside her. "You have not betrayed me?"

"Of course not.  You are the only one I would ever sleep with," Aragorn sighed as he pulled her into a gentle embrace.

"Oh Aragorn!" Arwen clung to him in relief.

Legolas leaned down and whispered into Aragorn's ear. "What about that bar maid in Turon?"

"I was drunk," Aragorn hissed back.

"And the woman in Southern Mirkwood?"

"I was too drugged up on spider venom antidotes to even know what was going on."

"And what about those three brothel girls in Bree that you paid for with _my money?"_

 "Legolas, you are not helping the situation."

Arwen pulled back and wiped her eyes, having not noticed what passed between Aragorn and Legolas because of her sobbing. "Forgive me, my love.  I have completely misjudged you."

"It is all right," Aragorn smiled. "I will forgive you."

"Now that that is settled," Elrond helped his daughter back to her feet. "I suggest that we all freshen up.  Dinner will be served in an hour."

*          *          *

Arwen hummed contentedly to herself as she walked through her father's halls to the dining room.  All seemed right in the world again.  Aragorn was still faithful to her and all that she had heard had turned out to be a mistake.  She had overheard Elladan groaning over Elrohir again, only his door was open this time.  She had seen that the younger twin was merely massaging Elladan's sore muscles, so that crushed her thoughts of them involved in incest.  She had also met up with Glorfindel, who presented her with his latest baking masterpiece.  She could not help but groan in pleasure after tasting a single bite.  Glorfindel had told her that Elrond had been his official taste tester over the past few days, which cleared all of her ideas that they were lovers.  To make matters even better, Elrond had also mixed up a tea that Arwen could drink whenever she became especially hormonal.  Arwen gave a great sigh of relief.  Everything was finally back to normal around her home.  

As she turned a corner, Arwen stopped short.  Standing directly in front of her was her father and Gandalf; and they were kissing passionately.  Shrieking, Arwen turned tail and ran for dear life.  _Sweet Elbereth, not again!_

When Arwen was out of site, Elrond reached up and punched Gandalf in the head.  The old wizard staggered backwards and looked at the elven lord like a beaten puppy.

"Gandalf, how many times must I tell you that I.  Am.  Not.  Interested." The half-elf yelled.

"But Elly, my sweet elf, I love you!" Gandalf pleaded.

Elrond threw up his hands in exasperation. "No!  Now for the last time, stop this!  I have no interest in you!" 

The Lord of Imladris stormed away toward the dining hall, leaving Gandalf alone in the hallway.  The wizard heaved a great sigh and headed in the opposite direction of Elrond.

"He is so stubborn.  Oh well.  Maybe I should go to Lórien and try to interest Celeborn in a bit of romance.  I am sure that he would not be so cold.

**The End**

For those who were wondering, Adar means Father.  The shortened form; Ada, is more casual and is usually translated as Dad or Daddy. 

[1] From what I read in The Silmarillion, Aulë actually created the dwarves before Ilúvatar created the elves.  Needless to say, Ilúvatar was less than happy and declared: "They shall sleep now in the darkness under stone, and shall not come forth until the Firstborn have awakened upon Earth".  So basically, the dwarves were created before the elves, but were put under an enchanted sleep until after our pointy-eared friends were created. (Holy "Sleeping Beauty", Batman!) It's a good thing the elves never found out about that.

[2] _Perian__ is short for __periannath, the elvish word for the hobbits.  __Ulaire is the elvish word for the ringwraiths.  From what I've read, Nazgul is the name for the ringwraiths in Black Speech.  Since the elves can't stand to hear Black Speech, they wouldn't call them Nazgul. (Thanks to Cassia for this information)_

**A/N:  Ideas are still needed for the following elf stories:**

Elrond

Thranduil

Orophin

Rúmil

Gil-Galad

Send me some ideas if you can think of any crazy misadventures for these elves.  Either e-mail me or post them in a review.  I'm considering writing a story for Haldir as well, even though he was a main character in "An Elf Lord Has Needs".  What do all of you think?  

**NEXT CHAPTER:  Elladan and Elrohir-Is it possible for the twins to stay out of trouble for an entire month?**


End file.
